𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 - TMR AU, Thomas

𝟢𝟦𝟫，𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤

༺ FORTY - NINE ༻

There goes another piece of the mirrorball.

The past minutes, I've listened to the frequent breaks. The sound is nice in my ears. Glass shattering exactly every second a half. A pattern that repeats.

I let myself fall deeper into my bed. Such soft sheets, a fresh smell... way better than how Mamma Mia felt last night.

But it's Saturday. I have ballet at two. I've got to get up.

So I open my eyes. In that one second, the breaking of the glass turns into something else.

A beep. Beep, beep, beep, every second and a half. Suddenly, it doesn't sound as nice. And once I realize that, the beeps go faster.

I force my heavy eyelids open. Then I close them again, because the bright light hurts. Since when is my room that bright?

It takes a while to get used to it, but then I can look around with ease, though my head hurts when I move it. A chair, white walls, one windows, lots of wires.

I start worrying. Did something happen to Newt again?

But then I remember I'm the one who feels the soft sheets. That the beeps are based of my heartbeat.

Bloody hell.

"Rose!" A gasp next to me. I look up, meeting Mom's eyes, which are full of tears. "Oh, love. My love.." Her arms wrap around me so fast that I'm taken aback by it, confused and everything at once.

"Don't let her suffocate," a deeper voice. It's Dad.

I'm starting to panic. "What happened? Why am I here? What's—"

"Calm down, love." Mom gives the heart monitor a glare, because the beeps are speeding up again. "Take it easy."

But I sit up. Why not? The headache is nothing new.

"What happened?" I repeat. "Why's my hand in bandages and why am I in the bloody hospital?"

Mom and Dad share a glance. Mom nods, Dad takes a breath. "We found you in the bathroom yesterday. Unconscious. The mirror was broken. The doctors said you might've punched it a few times, according to your bleeding hand."

Mirrorball. Breaking. Red. Hurting hands.

Cute.

"And I didn't wake up," I say. I don't add 'this time'. Usually, I wake up like a minute after fainting. Now I've ended up in the damn hospital.

"No," Mom says. She lies her hand on my arm. "We— we found out about your pills," she says quietly, averting her watery eyes.

No. No no no no no no— can't be happening.

"How?" I manage to keep a straight face.

Mom and Dad look at each other again. Then, Dad nods at her, so she continues. "Thomas showed up with a few of them. Said you dropped them in the restaurant. He already figured out what they were and wanted to let us know."

Bloody. Piece. Of. Shit.

I laugh through the pain of that. It's almost funny how much it hurts that Thomas snitched to my parents while we're one, broken up, and two, he was the one who said he didn't want me to go through the problems with doctors.

I bite my lip. My good hand clenches around the sheet, and I try to calm myself down. "Thomas. He told you guys," I say.

"Yes," Dad confirms. "We're glad he did. Now you're safe. No longer in danger, love. If we wouldn't known—"